Shattered Childhood
by SJColton
Summary: Sam and Dean usually have no problem avoiding Child Protective Services, people are too caught up with themselves to notice anything off about them. However, sometimes teachers notice.


It's the middle of March when the main office tells you they are adding a new student to your class, "Sam Winchester." Marge over at the high school is getting a new student, "Dean Winchester," added to her homeroom. She told you his file was thicker than any other freshman she's ever seen. You sigh, thinking your Winchester won't be any better, as misbehavior tends to run in the family, and are overly surprised when Sam, despite a few long absences and unspecified health problems, seems to be nothing more than an above average student.

Sam - you tried to call him "Sammy," but he gave you a look and said that only Dean could call him that - is a small boy with brown hair and old eyes. He is skinnier than many of the other kids, but not the skinniest. His clothes are dirty and don't fit quite right, however, from what you can see of his brother, (who, you've noticed, picks up Sam every day) Dean is dirtier and his clothes fit him worse. You ignore it, because Brandon isn't a rich town and this isn't the first time you've seen children come through with ratty clothes; they aren't even the worst you've seen.

Marge tells you that Dean came into school on the first day with a bruise on his cheek and a cut on his lip. You tut lightly and tell her you aren't surprised if his file is really as big as she says it is. Marge says that when she asked what happened he smirked and told her he got in a fight with a werewolf.

You start worrying in April, when it comes time for parent-teacher conferences and Sam says that his father will be out of town that week and keeps "forgetting" to ask when he can reschedule the conference. You try to call the infamous "John Winchester" but only get a dead line. Sam tells you that his father forgot to pay the phone bill, you don't believe him.

In the end, Dean shows up, donning a leather jacket that is far too big, on the only free spot you have left, 7:30 pm on a Wednesday. You can't seem to figure out how the freckled-faced 14-year-old in front of you has the biggest file Marge has ever seen when he smiles proudly as you tell him, just as you would a parent, how well Sam has been doing, and how you plan on recommending him for the more advanced classes the middle school has to offer.

After that you watch Sam a little more carefully. You notice the bags under his eyes and the bruise that peeks out the edge of his collar and want to report it but feel like you don't have enough proof. You notice when Dean picks up Sam that the bruises often correspond, when Dean shows up with his arms a deep blue and says that he got in a fight after the football game Sam will walk with a slight limp or have a burn on his hand "from grabbing a pan wrong" and you wonder how you could be so stupid to not notice it before.

You notice that when Sam is hurt Dean is injured in a ten-fold. Where Sam "twisted his ankle on the front steps," Dean moves like your husband did after he broke his ribs playing football in college.

One night you lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, you can't go to sleep. The worry gnawing at the back of your mind has exploded into a constant, loud hum. Two days before, Sam had shown up to school, he seemed happier, but smelt of whiskey. You didn't ask about it, you didn't need to. Kids had come through before, the ones who had fathers that known as the town drunks, smelling the same. Then, the day you lay down reflecting on, Sam hadn't shown up at all. You half-noticed it throughout the day, but couldn't really dwell on it, you have other students. You had to deal with Susan, a troublesome girl, who smashed a milk carton on another student's head, and Matthew, who shoved a pencil into the locking mechanism of a 3rd grader's locker. By 5th grade you'd imagine that students would know better, but they never do.

It is only at the end of the school day, when just as always, Dean Winchester stands by the front office. His knuckles are scraped up and bruises and welts pop up on his face. You know that more injuries hide under the leather of his jacket and his wrist is wrapped up. This time he isn't waiting for his brother, instead he walks up to you once you come back from walking your students to the bus.

"Hello Ma'am," you really do wonder how a boy like him can have such a long record.

"Hello Dean," you smile gently. "And call me Mrs. Holman." Dean gives a light nod, but you know he will keep calling you ma'am.

"Sammy is sick. Got one of those spring colds that's going around. I was wonderin' if I could pick up work for him," he says.

"Of course," you tell him, "just come with me, I'll go get it."

"And any other work, once Sammy gets somethin' it don't leave him for a while. He ought to be back next week, we'll have a doctor's note, but you know how it is," Dean requests.

"I don't plan too far ahead, but I'll give you what I can, dear," you tell him, digging through the manilla folders that cover your desk. You never were one for organization.

A week later, true to Dean's word, Sam is back in school, he hands you a doctor's note, but he moves stiffly. It looks real, but you've never heard of the doctor, and it is a small town, one that you've lived in all your life.

That night you come home upset and talk to your husband about the Winchesters for hours. You resolve to ask Sam about it the next day.

When the next day rolls around you keep Sam in from recess to talk to him. When you ask if his father beats him Sam gets angrier than you've even seen him, even when Ben tripped him on the way to the bus. He almost yells as he tells you that his father is a good man that would never hurt him. He's just clumsy, _don't you get that?_ After that he doesn't look you in the eye for the rest of the day, and you don't try to look him in the eye either.

When Dean comes to pick up Sam, he pulls him aside and talks and his hands move anxiously as he does so. You stand back a bit, watching the encounter. For a second, you wonder if Dean is the one hurting Sam, but quickly remember Dean's own injuries, often worse than Sam's, and dismiss it. As Sam talks Dean glares at you over his brother's shoulder. You cautiously approach the two, and before you can speak Dean starts talking.

"Listen lady, I heard about what you asked Sammy, and you got it all wrong. Our dad don't hurt us none, he protects us. We'd be worse off without him. You just think that 'cause we don't have nice clothes somethin' is wrong, but it ain't." The entire time he speaks he looks you dead in the eye, with a seriousness that most adults can't manage. You tread lightly.

"Dean, I'm sure that we can clear this all up. I'm just worried for you and your brother. Next week is the open house, on Friday. I'm sure that if you can get your dad to come we can get this all cleared up. No harm, no foul." You put your hands out in front of you, a placating gesture.

"He's gotta work." Dean snaps and puts his hand on his brother's back, turning around and walking out of the building, leaving you stunned.

The next day, and the day after that, and then again the day after, Sam is missing from school, and a short chat with Marge confirms that Dean was out too. You hear hide nor hair of the Winchesters until Thursday, the day before the open house, when a scruffy man who smells of whisky and claims to be Sam's father shows up at the main office, wanting to withdraw the boy from school. In a polite conversation with the secretary he says that he lost his job, and when he sends in Sam to clean out his locker Sam tells you that he and Dean are going to live with "Uncle Bobby, until Dad finds a place to get settled." He doesn't mention the conversation you and his brother had.

After some research you find out that since Sam has left your school's system you can't do much about the abuse you suspect. You learn that you can do even less because there is no forwarding address for "Uncle Bobby." You worry about Sam for a while, but as time goes on you worry less and less, until you have virtually forgotten about him.

Until one day, years later, that is. You are a few years away from retiring and you turn on the TV to a pretty reporter with ruby lips who tells you about a series of shooting and two faces flash across the screen, the reporter says they are "Sam and Dean Winchester" and "armed and dangerous." She tells you about all the things they have done, as you search the faces that popped up you realize who they are, you recognize Dean first, by the smirk and the nose, you notice blandly that his freckles have faded, then you see more and more of the Sam you knew in the towering figure next to him. You stare at the figures in front of you numbly and don't even realize you are crying until your husband comes in a half hour later. He pulls you into his arms and asks what is wrong, so you point at the TV only to see it has gone to a commercial and can't find the words to describe the atrocity you have committed all those years ago by not stopping those innocent boys from becoming monsters and feel the blood of all those they have killed on your hands.


End file.
